ears of age.

"It wud hae been temptin' Providence tae cross the muir," Whinnie
explained, "and it's a fell stap roond; a' doot we're laist."

"See, Jamie," said Drumsheugh, as he went to the house, "gin there be
ony antern body in sicht afore we begin; we maun mak allooances the day
wi' twa feet o' sna on the grund, tae say naethin' o' drifts."

"There's something at the turnin', an' it's no fouk; it's a machine o'
some kind or ither--maybe a bread cart that's focht its wy up."

"Na, it's no that; there's twa horses, are afore the ither; if it's no a
dogcairt wi' twa men in the front; they 'ill be comin' tae the beerial."
"What wud ye sae, Jamie," Hillocks suggested, "but it micht be some o'
thae Muirtown doctors? they were awfu' chief wi' MacLure."

"It's nae Muirtown doctors," cried Jamie, in great exultation, "nor ony
ither doctors. A' ken thae horses, and wha's ahind them. Quick, man,
Hillocks, stop the fouk, and tell Drumsheugh tae come oot, for Lord
Kilspindie hes come up frae Muirtown Castle."

Jamie himself slipped behind, and did not wish to be seen.

"It's the respeck he's gettin' the day frae high an' low," was Jamie's
husky apology; "tae think o' them fetchin' their wy doon frae Glen
Urtach, and toiling roond frae the heich Glen, an' his Lordship driving
through the drifts a' the road frae Muirtown, juist tae honour Weelum
MacLure's beerial.

[Illustration: "TWA HORSES, ANE AFORE THE ITHER"]

"It's nae ceremony the day, ye may lippen tae it; it's the hert brocht
the fouk, an' ye can see it in their faces; ilka man hes his ain
reason, an' he's thinkin' on't though he's speakin' o' naethin' but the
storm; he's mindin' the day Weelum pued him out frae the jaws o' death,
or the nicht he savit the gude wife in her oor o' tribble.

"That's why they pit on their blacks this mornin' afore it wes licht,
and wrastled through the sna drifts at risk o' life. Drumtochty fouk
canna say muckle, it's an awfu' peety, and they 'ill dae their best tae
show naethin', but a' can read it a' in their een.

"But wae's me"--and Jamie broke down utterly behind a fir tree, so
tender a thing is a cynic's heart--"that fouk 'ill tak a man's best wark
a' his days without a word an' no dae him honour till he dees. Oh, if
they hed only githered like this juist aince when he wes livin', an' lat
him see he hedna laboured in vain. His reward has come ower late".

During Jamie's vain regret, the castle trap, bearing the marks of a